


winter sun

by litteringfire (heartrapier)



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Outsider, somewhat but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 13:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartrapier/pseuds/litteringfire
Summary: His happiness is everything to her.Ibuki’s breath crackles in white. “He would always go the extra mile.”She catches him tugging on the scarf and pulling it over his mouth. “Yes,” Mikuru can’t stop her smile from reaching her eyes, “he would.”





	winter sun

**Author's Note:**

> i love mikuru and i love ibukuro and i love seeing my loved ones being loved so. here it is. end of the year miracle.
> 
> set somewhere in the far? near? future. canon-compliant only until SG.
> 
> merry christmas and happy holidays!!

Immediately, while eyeing the flood of people crowding the entrance of a supermarket, Mikuru regrets not going on a pre-Christmas shopping weeks prior. Of course, thanks to her nephew’s quick-thinking, she no longer needs to do casual groceries—Chrono does those without waiting for her, under the reasoning of “ _so that whenever you get home, you won’t need to think about having to go out for food._ ”

Mikuru is never not grateful. She, too, wants to spend her free time at home, sitting across the dining table with Chrono, talking about how his week has gone, and how his friends are faring.

Speaking of friends. Mikuru blinks out the cold from her eyelids, and squints right back at the supermarket’s entrance, just in time for someone familiar to stumble his way out in between the crowd.

Recognising Ibuki is easy. It’s not as much as how he dresses in similar sorts of clothing, mostly covering up from head to toe, or how his long hair falls on his shoulders, obscuring the view to his eyes. It’s more about the hand-knitted scarf he is wearing around his neck, holding onto as he tries to stabilise his legs after surviving people.

In this cold, with the wind on her face, Mikuru stares at the scarf and thinks, _amazing_. With a smile on her lips, she trudges forward.

“Ibuki-kun.” she calls out, subtly waving her hand.

Lifting his head, the younger man tugs on his coat and acknowledges her. His movements are stiff—nervousness, maybe. “Shindou-san.” he says, giving a slight nod.

“Mikuru is fine.” she says, amused. She’s probably told him to call her that for months, now. At this point, it’s become a second greeting. “Christmas shopping?”

Ibuki nods, lifting the small plastic bag in one of his hands. “Wrapping papers.”

That’s more elaboration than Mikuru has originally expected. “Oh? For gifts?” At another nod, she adds, “Chrono would be delighted.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Ibuki gapes at her. “I didn’t…. How did—?”

Mikuru tries to hold back a giggle. “I was right? Sorry, lucky guess!” Seeing as Ibuki seems to fold in acceptance, she slides closer to his side. “Chrono said he was meeting you tonight, after our Christmas’ family dinner. I just put two and two together.”

“Ah. Of course.” Ibuki says. There is fondness in his voice. “He wouldn’t leave without telling you first, Shindou-san.”

Mikuru gives a smaller smile at that. Maybe she should say something like “he’s always known what to do”, but the two of them are very much aware of that simple fact.

“He’s cooking fried chicken.” she says instead, in an attempt for an ice-breaker. “We could’ve just ordered fast-food like every other person, but he stepped up and said he was cooking us the whole thing himself.”

Unexpectedly, Ibuki chuckles. “Sounds like him.”

“He said he’d make them healthier.” Mikuru says, finally feeling the rhythm of the conversation. “So that we can eat a whole bucket without worrying about anything, he said.”

Ibuki’s breath crackles in white. “He would always go the extra mile.”

She catches him tugging on the scarf and pulling it over his mouth. “Yes,” Mikuru can’t stop her smile from reaching her eyes, “he would.”

The crowd around the supermarket has barely thinned, but Mikuru’s mind catches up to her without preambles, and she sighs. “I was supposed to get some drinks.”

Ibuki blinks at her. “Alcohols?”

Mikuru tries not to look too sheepish. “It’s Christmas.”

Ibuki nods in understanding and hums. “I may know a specialised shop. It won’t be this…cramped.”

Surprise colours Mikuru’s face. She doesn’t drink a lot, and can probably count how many times she allows herself to do that within the month in one hand. In this same vein, she can’t imagine Ibuki drowning in alcohol either.

The offer is pretty sweet, however. She lets Ibuki lead the way.

 

-

 

Chrono was hiding in the orphanage’s small sunflower field when Mikuru came for him, draped in her best dress. Next to her, the head of the orphanage stood, calling out her nephew’s name.

She almost couldn’t breathe. The time was here, the time had come. She felt so much relief, but worry thrummed in her chest. The feeling of a pen still lingered on her fingers, haunting—but it was proof. She’d written down her name; she’d made an oath.

And when Chrono finally emerged with a half-eaten apple, she could feel tears pool behind her eyes.

The boy tilted his head, an unasked question.

Mikuru leant down and gathered him in her arms.

Through the embrace, she could feel Chrono’s soul expand.

She would take care for him. She’d promised from so long ago.

 

-

 

Ibuki brings her to a specialised beer shop, whose owner seems to recognise him in one go and jerks his head as though allowing him inside. Ibuki waves his hand in appreciation and enters, Mikuru following closely behind.

“You seem…used to this, Ibuki-kun.” Mikuru says, in good humour. “You didn’t strike me as someone who’d frequent a beer shop.”

The look Ibuki gives her then is guilty. “It’s…good.”

Any other times, Mikuru wouldn’t have even noticed it. But this time, she is instantly aware of the hidden message, of something Ibuki seems to prefer not to bring up. “I see,” she says, for lack of better things to say. “I will trust you for brands recommendation, then.”

Ibuki seems slightly less nervous than before, and Mikuru can see relief coursing through his stance.

“Of course.” he says, smiling softly. “Please count this as one of your Christmas presents, Shindou-san.”

Mikuru laughs, the surprise fresh in her tongue. “Really? Oh, you don’t need to go that far for me.”

Ibuki shakes his head. His eyes are steel, but the undercurrent of his voice is asking for Mikuru to go easy on him. It’s uncanny, and endearing. “I want to do this.”

Mikuru almost wants to hug him, but holds herself back. It wouldn’t do to force him to be intimate with her. Instead, she settles with saying, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Ibuki’s smile twitches, embarrassment apparent. He scratches at his elbow and finally looks up, gesturing to one of the aisles. “I’ll let you choose.”

 

-

 

He meant the world to her.

That’s why, when he brought up Vanguard in front of her, it was like being reminded of loss—one after another. It was as if the very foundation under her feet had been snatched away—again.

“I… I wouldn’t allow it.” she decided. “I can’t allow it.”

She wouldn’t let the same thing that killed her family to remain. She wouldn’t let it take him away from her.

 

-

 

The thing was—his happiness meant everything to her.

Chrono had always been a stability. He had always been a figure with resolutions, stood strong and confident. He knew well what he wanted and needed, and held himself with that in mind.

Mikuru knew, without having to scrape through her brain, what he was trying to do.

After all, she’d once been like that, too.

The desperate, sickening need to stand alone, to be more than _capable_. Both of them wanted independence and the strength that came with it.

Mikuru found hers in her job—in the power that it gave her. But she also found the reason to keep going in Chrono.

The answer was that she couldn’t have done it alone. It was because Chrono had always been there for her; it was because she’d always _wanted_ to be there for him.

Chrono found his in Vanguard.

 

-

 

“Thank you.” Mikuru says, cradling the package of beer on her arms. “This is such a wonderful surprise!”

“I’m glad.” Ibuki replies. His expression is genuinely relieved, as if he’s just gone through some trial. “I didn’t know what to get you at first, Shindou-san.”

Mikuru blinks. “You planned to give me something from the start?”

Slipping his scarf over his neck as the wind gets stronger, Ibuki says, “Yes. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to ask Chrono if you’d had any preferences earlier.”

Mikuru pinches her temple in reflex, touched. “Ibuki-kun…. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ibuki says firmly. Mikuru chuckles.

They are walking without any real direction, going along the sidewalk as couples seem to fill up the area. Mikuru belatedly notices that Ibuki seems to have a habit of walking slightly behind, and that their steps are synced to the point of timely taps of each their boots.

She steers them towards the direction of the nearest station, and Ibuki joins her obediently, seemingly lost on how to excuse himself now that they’ve gotten this far.

“So,” Mikuru tries not to grin, “what did you get Chrono?”

Due to the cold, Ibuki’s nose had gotten pink from the very beginning, but Mikuru easily picks up on his growing blush at the question.

“It’s nothing much.” Ibuki says, pulling the plastic bag closer to himself. “He’d gotten me something handmade last year, so….”

 _Of course he did_ , Mikuru thinks, holding herself back from saying it aloud. “Did you make something handmade too, then?”

Ibuki shakes his head sheepishly. “No. I—I gave it a try. But decided otherwise.”

“He will appreciate it.” Mikuru says. “Whatever you get him, he will love it.”

They are, of course, aware of this. After all, this is the same Chrono they both love.

“I hope he will.” Ibuki whispers.

 

-

 

Chrono didn’t cry, but he might as well have.

 Mikuru rubbed circles on his nape, slowly, a ritual from his childhood. It was nostalgic and grounding, and she felt her throat tremble as he tried to speak.

He chose not to say anything, in the end, and instead tried to manage his breathing. Mikuru stayed, fingers on his nape.

She wanted to congratulate him, wanted to tell him well done. But Chrono looked unsatisfied, as if something was stuck in his chest, as if he hadn’t just helped the world avoid some unwanted end from the machinations of her brother’s old friend’s creation.

“Do you want a drink?” Mikuru asked, lifting herself up.

“No, it’s—“ he coughed, “it’s okay. I’ll be okay. Just a bit.”

Mikuru patted his back in affirmative, and leant back into the couch.

“Today, I….” he whispered, “Never mind.”

Mikuru raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother him. Chrono’s eyes were fixed into the air in front of him, and she could see him calculate and rearrange his thoughts and—find out what he needed. He inhaled, and exhaled, and knew he’d come to a solid decision.

He was okay. He will be okay.

“I won’t let this happen again.”

 _Of course_ , she didn’t say.

 

-

 

“Why don’t you join our family dinner?” Mikuru brings up as they start to see the station at the end of the road.

Ibuki eyes her in disbelief. “I can’t possibly intrude on a family event.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind.” Mikuru says matter-of-factly. “And Chrono will definitely be happy to see you there. Both of us would _love_ to see you there.”

Hesitantly, Ibuki tries to decline, “It’s Christmas, family should spend some time together. I will be seeing Chrono later as well. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You aren’t intruding.” Mikuru reaches out, planning to pat his shoulder. She stops halfway and settles on his arm instead. “You are already a part of our family, you know, Ibuki-kun.”

Ibuki’s jaws click, every single part of his body stiffening. He looks uncomfortable, and Mikuru curses herself inside.

“I don’t want to be forcing you. It’s not—this is not an obligation.” Mikuru says quickly, scrambling with her tongue. “By family, I meant—I meant that—you are important.”

Ibuki is still staring at her hawk-eyed, but his stance relaxes. He looks more baffled, but at least he no longer looks like he wants to bolt as soon as she blinks.

“You are important to us. To Chrono and me. You are welcome in our house anytime.”

Ibuki is more than important.

Mikuru knows, because she’d watched Chrono mention Ibuki during dinners, about how he often resorted to CalorieMate instead of takeout bento, or about how his idea of gifts was either Vanguard cards (which Chrono actually had no complaints about, except for the way it was often received) or secret soba delivery. She’d watched Chrono’s playful smiles as he told on secondhand accounts of his battles with Ibuki, about how lucky Chrono felt to have encountered him, despite all the difficulties, despite all the struggles. Chrono had told her, point-blank, that he was content, and she’d heard him wish for _forever_ as if it was the easiest thing to say in the world.

In a way, it is. For Chrono, he just has to prove it.

There is no one else Mikuru can trust for it.

“It doesn’t have to be today.” Mikuru says, glancing at Ibuki’s scarf for a few seconds, feeling warmth in her throat. One end of the scarf is messier than the other, but it is obvious that the one who had knitted it gave so much love and effort, improving as he went on. Chrono had tripped on the threads multiple times during its conception, and Mikuru had looked on, amused. The small fact that Ibuki has kept the scarf for the entire year, caring for it despite the obvious and raw marks of being worn often, and that he has chosen to wear it the year after, on the Christmas Day where he has planned to go with the one who gave it to him—Mikuru’s love overflows from within her heart. “You can come tomorrow, or whenever. Anytime.”

Ibuki still doesn’t say anything, constantly tugging at the scarf as if in thought.

Mikuru keeps her silence. The wind picks up, and as it howls in her ears she finds herself wondering if Chrono has finished cooking whatever feast he was preparing, fried chicken included. She finds herself wondering how Chrono would look if Ibuki were to come along, after all, and surprise him at the entrance of their apartment.

Ibuki straightens his spine, and faces her. His fist is still curled onto his scarf, but that’s how Mikuru is sure of what he means when he, finally, says, “If you don't mind. Please excuse my intrusion.”

Mikuru feels her face split open with a grin.

 

-

 

Chrono’s happiness means everything to her.

And she sees this in the way Chrono looks up from the kitchen counter with shock, and then with delight—and then in the way he goes around the table to meet with Ibuki halfway, the fond gaze as it lands on the familiar scarf, his hands as they reach for the other man’s gloved ones.

Somehow, Mikuru wishes for _forever_ , too.


End file.
